An Attempt at Being Brave
by RefreshingSanity
Summary: A somewhat angsty Naomily New Years one shot set during the season four relationship turmoil.


**A somewhat angsty New Years fic, set during the Naomily relationship turmoil of season 4. (New years would be in the middle of that right? Northern hemisphere stuff confuses me)**

**This is my first fic on here. It's been a while since I've written anything, so feedback really is appreciated. I don't know if I'm entirely satisfied with it, so I'll let you guys be the judge.**

Rooted to the spot, she searched intensely for the traces of vivid red hair fluttering about between the dancing, hoping for some indication of what was going to happen tonight. The music was thumping hard and she could feel the vibrations in her body. She could see Cook jumping around wildly, making a scene but still being careful not to draw any one person's attention for too long, lest it occur to them he should really be incarcerated. She could see Effy, withdrawn and observing, looking more pensive, perhaps a little troubled even, than usual. Freddie, trying to cheer Effy up, making jokes, draw her attention, but apparently aware enough that she was in her own space not to physically crowd her. JJ talking animatedly to a distracted and somewhat disappointed Thomas near a table of drinks. Panda obliviously, and rather typically, cockblocking Katie and this brick of a bloke she'd been chatting up.

And there was Naomi, terrified, because Emily had point blank ignored her all evening, which wasn't unusual in itself considering the state of their relationship these days. And it wasn't as though Naomi had actually attempted conversation, being completely and utterly overwhelmed by the pressure of not knowing what to say.

But Emily hadn't so much as glanced at her since they'd bumped into each other on their way to this stupid New Year's party being held by some tosser (Naomi assumed he was a tosser; most people who went to their college were). She'd merely received raised eyebrows when they crossed paths on the street, before Emily promptly turned and walked on ahead.

_Which is just ridiculous_, Naomi had thought to herself as she'd kicked at the ground several paces behind Emily. _We're going to the same party, of course we were going to run into each other. For god's sake she still bloody lives with me._ But it had become Emily's custom to leave the house early and go elsewhere first if they were going to be at the same event, which, if Naomi was being more honest and less bitter, did save them the awkwardness of having to travel in silence. They rarely spoke these days. Any stab at interaction usually ended in resentment.

Naomi _was_ feeling bitter on this occasion though. And perhaps a bit nervous. Actually, a lot nervous. She knew what Emily was like when she went out nowadays, or at least she extrapolated from the couple of parties and disastrous barbeque since that fateful day on the club's rooftop. Emily was wild and uncontrollable and unpredictable (_and beautiful, no shut up_). And she liked to flirt. To provoke Naomi? To hurt her? Naomi hadn't as of yet worked it out, and she suspected neither had Emily.

But this was New Year's Eve, at a New Year's party, where people tended to indulge in a New Year's kiss. And there was no shortage of fit girls around. So Naomi was scared. Because Emily had been ignoring her, not just not speaking to her, but not even looking at her. Not longingly, not accusingly, not anything. And Naomi wasn't sure what that meant, but she knew things were on the edge with them at the moment. Potential to change within the blink of an eye. One wrong move. _One __**more**__ wrong move_, Naomi corrected self-deprecatingly. She half wondered if it was Emily's subconscious response to the abruptness of their fall out.

Some days, Naomi found hope in the little things, like when she found Emily curled up on the couch in a large, thick grey cardigan that would have the name 'Naomi' written on the label in black sharpie. Emily wearing her clothes, a sign that she was still holding onto their relationship. Naomi had had some slight hope, but she hadn't said anything when Emily's gorgeous, yet devastatingly sad eyes had turned to her.

_Coward_, Naomi mentally cursed upon recalling the memory, hand clenching around the cup of vodka (she'd already guessed the traditional champagne wouldn't cut it tonight. Besides, who their age would have bothered to bring some? _Emily_).

Other days, Naomi could swear she could feel Emily giving up, like when walking past the spare bedroom (her mum's room really. Emily didn't sleep with her anymore), and seeing the blue duffel bag sitting on the bed. It had been empty, but it had been there. Emily had consciously gotten it out. Emily had consciously thought about leaving. Naomi had felt her heart tearing as she'd leant against the door frame for just a moment, biting her lip and working her jaw (she didn't want to cry), before forcing herself to walk away. She'd seen Emily later in the kitchen. Neither of them brought it up, and Naomi hadn't seen the bag since.

That was a week ago. _Should have said something, _Naomi bit the edge of her cup and stared at the floor ahead of her. She couldn't stop wondering if Emily was still considering it, whether staying or leaving was the more constant thought in her gorgeous (_fuck_) head. _I should have tried to talk to her. Convince her that she should stay. Coward, coward, fucking coward._

And now it was New Years, and Emily was a hopeless romantic. The sort of girl who would have adored being kissed at midnight by someone she loved. Naomi's gaze found her bouncing away on the dance floor, very drunk. Maybe using the intoxication as false cheer, surrounded by obnoxious teenage twats having the time of their life. She wondered how many of these drunken idiots were actually as happy as they let on; maybe they were all struggling with heartbreak, stress, inadequacy, loneliness.

And suddenly Naomi didn't care. Because in one of her twirls, in perfect time with the beat, Emily's eyes had found hers. Instantly, and not accidentally. Emily had known exactly where she was standing. Naomi felt her heart lift. And then twist and squirm. Because Emily had raised her eyebrows with this kind of challenging, 'fuck you' grin on her face. This was wild, uncontrollable, unpredictable (_drunk and still bloody sexy_) Emily, and Naomi was far more terrified of her than the uncertainty than had left them in this mess in the first place.

Emily was not going to be kissed by someone she loved at midnight, that much was obvious. She'd never let Naomi that close to her. She wasn't even going to be kissed by someone she remotely fancied, because she'd given her everything to Naomi and never had been interested in anyone else while she was around. So apparently it was going to become a game, this grand tradition of love (Naomi had feared something like this at Christmas, but fortunately none of her friends her sentimental enough to put up mistletoe. No additional ammunition for Emily).

_I've fucked this up so hard._

Naomi watched as Emily disappeared into the crowd. Emily would have wanted to cuddle tonight. They would have laughed and danced and made fun of all the horny blokes who were failing to pull girls. Emily's face would have been sweet and open and so honest. And maybe if Naomi had waited, tonight would have been the night she realised just what Emily was worth to her. She'd rather have found out tonight than on that god forsaken rooftop.

The crowds shifted and Emily was suddenly in view, talking to some pretty brunette. _She's not that pretty, not really_, Naomi scowled. _You could have done better Em, you're way out of this girl's league_. She swallowed hard. They were flirting, leaning in close when they talked, laughing over apparently nothing. This girl actually fancied Emily, she was flattered by her attention and completely under the redhead's spell. Emily was perfectly in control of this situation.

_She's doing it to hurt you. To make you react. That's just some random college student, it's not about her. This is about you and Emily._

'Jaykins says it's a minute 'til midnight!' Cook bellowed, causing an outcry of cheering form around him. _So much for keeping a low profile mate._ Her eyes hadn't left Emily, who giggled at something the Bitch had said. The brown-eyed gaze turned to her, the same challenge still there: 'What're you gonna do about it? There's nothing you can do about it. It's fucked, isn't it?'

Naomi bent her head, unable to watch, closed her eyes hard and pursed her lips harder. But, unable to not watch, she looked back up. Emily wasn't paying any attention to her. Like she hadn't at all in the first place. Like they'd never met when they were twelve. Naomi's attention, on the other hand, was always fixed on Emily. It always had been.

She saw the Bitch become bold, running her hand up Emily's arm. Emily started, pulling back barely a fraction as this girl moved to whisper in her ear. There was the slightest of crinkles on her brow, betraying her uncertainty. She clearly hadn't expected the Bitch to make any moves herself. Still, she smiled, and playfully pressed back. But her eyes nervously (treacherously) flicked back to Naomi.

'**TEN!**' Naomi jumped slightly, having been absorbed in drama before her she was unprepared for the cheer. It left her dazed, caught, in a second, between reality and Emily (it should have been familiar territory by now). Emily's eyes had snapped to hers in similar disarray, and in that fleeting moment Naomi shook her head slightly. A plea, quietly desperate, for Emily to not give away something she would ordinarily consider precious.

'**NINE!**' Emily's gaze snapped away again, only to land on her would- be suitor, temporarily forgotten and suddenly out of place. Emily moved to look away, finding herself stressfully trapped between Naomi and the Bitch. The brunette moved in close, hand reaching out to attract Emily's somewhat anxious attention.

'**EIGHT!**' Emily pulled back suddenly, hands waving off the Bitch as she turned and pushed through the crowd, leaving two confused girls in her wake.

'**SEVEN!**' _What?_

'**SIX!**' _What just happened? She left. Obviously. Because I asked her too? Is she okay? Oh my god. What?_ Naomi gulped down the rest of her vodka. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the Bitch frown in confusion and glance around quickly for someone else to kiss before the countdown ended. Naomi's eyes were drawn to the exit.

'**FIVE!**' She dropped the plastic cup and began wading through the throng that had amassed around the table upon which Cook danced.

'**FOUR!**' Both hands on the door, Naomi pushed through the fire exit, buffeted by a blast of cold air and the sound of crying.

'**THREE!**' She heard the cry from behind her, muffled inside. She saw Emily in front of her, on the ground, back pressed hard against the brick wall, wiping futilely at her eyes. Emily looked so broken. Naomi's mind flashbacked, seeing Emily tears on the rooftop. Hearing them behind closed doors in their house. It had been a long time since she'd seen her smile. _I've fucked it up. I've fucked __**her**__ up._ Emily looked up at her.

'**TWO!**' 'Naomi- what? Look I just-' She watched Emily stand up and try to straighten herself, like she hadn't just been sobbing into her knees. 'You shouldn't- I mean, fuck, why are you-' Emily couldn't look at her, couldn't catch her breath. _I need to fix this._ Naomi pushed forwards suddenly.

'**ONE!**' Naomi pressed her up against the wall and kissed her hard, barely giving her a chance to respond (though she really should have seen it coming. It is the New Year after all). She just held her there, eyes closed and everything black, with their lips just pressed together. Her hands trailed down Emily's sides, over her waist, onto her hips, like a thousand times before (_probably never actually made it to a thousand, we had barely any time together_). She felt their bodies breathing asynchronously, hips locked together and breasts trembling against each other. Emily seemed frozen, both literally and figuratively (_it's the middle of winter obviously_).

A moment passed and Naomi lessened her pressure against Emily's lips slightly, but felt daring enough to press in again, just briefly (_did she respond?_), before actually releasing Emily and taking a couple of steps back, making distance.

Naomi could see her misty breaths coming out shuddery and shallow. She didn't really need the visual clues because it was the same shaking of her hands and shallowness of her heartbeat. Emily was stunned into silence, taking considerably deeper breaths, leaning against the wall for support. It had been such a chaste kiss, but the only meaningful contact they'd had for months.

Emily's brow furrowed and Naomi had to break the eye contact, finding herself needing more distance from this potentially dangerous situation.

'Right. Okay then.' Naomi managed to breathe out, stepping back further. Emily watched her intensely. Was she waiting on the perfect sentence that would fix them? Was she expecting Naomi to follow up a New Years' kiss with the words that would make everything right again? This was the moment to try and work it out.

Naomi opened her mouth, wanting to say something. Needing to say the right thing. _What is the right thing?_ Her mind raced through the possibilities: all the declarations of love and explanations and pleas. She closed her mouth, swallowed and bit her lip.

'I- I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…' She trailed off. She looked away and shook her head remorsefully. 'Sorry,' she repeated. With one last glance at Emily, she turned and walked away. If she'd looked back she would have seen that Emily was still conflicted and unsure. She didn't have to look back to know she was disappointed.

_Fucking coward._

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**Please review and criticise! Help me stretch my old writing muscles.  
**


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